


If at first you don't succeed...

by bellamyblue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s04e13 Praimfaya - Time Jump, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It's really about Bellarke but he thinks she's dead so..., M/M, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, it's not really an AU because nobody said this didn't happen..., spacekru
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamyblue/pseuds/bellamyblue
Summary: Murphy has some weird ideas about how to get Bellamy out of his "the-love-of-my-life-is-dead" funk.OrThe one where everybody in spacekru takes turns seducing Bellamy.Takes place during the time jump between season 4 and 5, when Bellamy thinks Clarke is dead.





	1. Attempt No. 1: Raven

“So, Bellamy needs to get laid.”

Spacekru, as they’d taken to calling themselves, was (with the exception of Bellamy) sitting down to another scrumptious dinner of algae bread with algae soup and algae salad on the side when Murphy made this pronouncement.

Monty choked a little on his food. “Dude, he’s still messed up over Clarke. Let him grieve.”

“He’s been grieving for eight months, and he hasn’t gotten any better. If anything, he’s more depressed now than he’s ever been.”

“How many times has he missed dinner this week?” Emori added helpfully. “Three? Four?”

“I’m not saying the guy needs to forget Clarke, or replace her as his one true love or whatever. But it might make him feel better.”

“And you think he’s gonna go for any of us?” asked Harper doubtfully.

Murphy shot a significant glance towards Raven; the others followed his gaze.

She frowned. “What?”

“He has before,” Murphy said knowingly.

“That was a one-time thing,” Raven protested. “Ages ago.”

“Still,” Echo puts in, “it means he’s not opposed to the idea. Might be worth a shot.”

It didn’t take very long to convince Raven, who had just been thinking the other day about how much it sucked to be single in space with no real shot of having any sex. It wasn’t like she’d been getting laid much before on Earth, not since Wick, but at least she’d had the _option_. She had considered asking Bellamy, of course—had even gotten all the way to his room before chickening out and deciding her fingers were good enough. In the end, she always came to the conclusion that Bellamy needed space to grieve. She knew he’d been in love with Clarke—who didn’t?—but it hadn’t occurred to her that maybe sleeping with someone else was exactly what he needed.

And who better to try than Raven? He’d done the same for her once.

 ***

After dinner, Raven made her way to Bellamy’s room and knocked gently, wondering if he was asleep. But no—after a few moments, there was a mumbled, “Come in.”

Raven pushed open the door, peering around to see Bellamy sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

“You okay? We missed you at dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

She moved to sit beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugged her off and stood, heading towards the little porthole on the far wall. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Raven sighed; this wasn’t working. When they’d first gotten to space, she and Bellamy had spent hours talking, reminiscing about Clarke and the early days on the ground, getting drunk on Monty’s algae moonshine, even crying a little. But as the weeks turned into months, he’d stopped confiding in her. Maybe he thought she was over it by now, that Clarke didn’t haunt her dreams, too, that she wasn’t still struggling to work through the trauma of all they’d been through. Maybe Bellamy thought he was alone in his grief—but he didn’t need to be.

She tried a different tactic. If Bellamy wouldn’t let her take care of him, maybe he would take care of her.

“Bell, can I… can I stay with you tonight?” He swung around to face her, confused. “It’s just… I’ve been having nightmares. About the death wave, about ALIE, about… everything. I don’t want to be alone.”

It was Bellamy’s turn to come sit on the bed and wrap an arm around her. “Of course.”

She pulled closer into a full-blown hug, letting her head rest against his broad shoulders. She hadn’t made up the nightmares—she really did wake in a cold sweat, at least three or four times a week, barely able to breathe. Sometimes she dreamed about Finn coming back from the dead and torturing her, drilling for her bone marrow like in Mount Weather. Sometimes she dreamed that ALIE was back in her head, taunting her. Sometimes she dreamed about burning up in the death wave, or about Clarke dying as the radiation washed over her. Everything that had happened to them since her escape pod fell to the ground, all those months ago—it haunted her. She usually pretended she was fine, that she was the one who could comfort other people, but it felt nice to just cuddle with Bellamy, to _be_ comforted for once.

However—she was on a mission here. _Focus, Raven_.

She moved her head up towards his neck, letting her warm breath fall across his skin. Slowly, not wanting to scare him away, she pressed a kiss against his pulse point there, gentle. Then another, and another, leaving faint wet traces up to the place just behind his ear.

“Raven, what are you doing?” he asked, but did not move away.

She kissed back down his neck, this time daring to suck a little at the skin with every kiss. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

He pulled back and cupped her face in his big, warm hands, staring her down. “If you wanted sex, you could have just asked.” He smiled, and for just a moment, Raven could see in his eyes a flash of the old Bellamy, flirty and nerdy and kind.

“Consider this me, asking.”

She pulled his palms away from her face, guiding them down to her waist, and leaned in for a proper kiss.

It had been ages since she’d kissed Bellamy Blake, but his lips felt familiar, warm, safe. She threaded one hand through his ruffled hair, pulling closer, deepening the kiss. Bellamy reciprocated, sliding one hand up her shirt to run his fingers along her side to the bottom of her bra. She moved so she was straddling him on the edge of the bed, kissing more frantically than she’d intended to.

Okay, so maybe she needed this, too.

He scooted back on the bed, pulling her along until he lay flat on his back while she knelt above him. In one quick motion, she yanked her shirt off, grinding down a little on his crotch. He groaned, then laughed, sitting up a little to get her bra off, flinging it somewhere on the floor. She pushed him back down, this time following him to kiss him once more, letting her tongue part his lips and slide in. His hips bucked up into hers—once, twice—sending a rush of warmth from her core all the way through her body.

It didn’t take long before they’d gotten all their clothes off, Bellamy kissing and licking down her collarbone to her nipple to her belly button. He paused there, glancing up at her.

“Did you want me to…?”

Raven considered for a moment—it had been a really, _really_ long time since she’d gotten good head. (Wick had been terrible at that, among other things.) But right now, all she wanted was Bellamy pounding inside of her until she cracked in two…

So she told him exactly that.

His polite look of concern vanished into a wicked grin, and moments later, he was pushing into her, cursing under his breath.

“God, Reyes, you feel so good,” he murmured in her ear, pausing as he bottomed out.

“Feels even better if you move,” she teased, twisting her hips in a circle while biting down a little on his shoulder. He groaned, leaning his head back, exposing his long, smooth neck—and Raven could help herself. She leaned up and licked it, top to bottom.

Bellamy laughed, pushing his hair back from his face, and began to move in earnest, driving into her with more and more force. Raven let herself moan, wrapping her legs around him to get a better angle.

Neither of them were going to last very long, she could tell. Bellamy’s thrusts quickly got sloppy, slapping irregularly against her skin, and her own breathing had already devolved into tiny pants, a fire spreading in her blood and in her bones. Suddenly, Bellamy’s thumb was on her clit and she was gone, the muscles of her legs clenching as pleasure ripped through her. Bellamy followed a moment later, groaning as he came.

He collapsed on top of her, pressing little kisses into her temple. Raven played with the hair at the back of Bellamy’s neck, combing through it again and again with her fingers. They stayed there for a long moment, just enjoying the feel of each other, skin to skin, heart to heart, grief to grief.

It took a minute for Raven to realize that the small sounds she was hearing were Bellamy crying—in fact, she didn’t really notice until a tear dripped down onto her forehead.

“Bellamy?”

He rolled off her, lying flat on his back beside her on the bed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I just….”

“Miss her,” Raven finished for him. “I know. Me too.”

Bellamy scrubbed at his tears with the back of one hand, staring at the ceiling.

“I loved her. I loved her and I never got to tell her.”

Propping herself up on one elbow, Raven pulled at his cheek with her other hand until he looked at her, making direct eye contact.

“She knew, Bellamy. She always knew.”

He swallowed, looked as if he was about to say something, then abruptly stood, rummaging around on the floor for his clothes.

Once he was dressed, he headed for the door, pausing only to say, “Thanks for the sex,” tossing the words awkwardly over his shoulder as if he didn’t know what to do with them. And then he was gone, leaving Raven naked on his bed, unsure if she had helped or only made things worse.


	2. Attempt No. 2: Echo

Raven had definitely made things worse.

Before she’d slept with Bellamy, he had at least made occasional appearances for training, meals, family meetings, etc. Now he barely left his room at all. He only ate if someone brought him food—and sometimes, not even then. Monty and Raven tried to check in on him as often as they could; they usually found him sleeping, at all hours of the day, or curled up in his bed staring at the ceiling, or doing push-ups and pull-ups until he nearly passed out.

“I blame Murphy,” Raven declared over dinner one night, a few weeks later, as they were discussing Bellamy’s continued spiral.

“What did I do?”

“ _You_ suggested I sleep with him. Now he’s even more depressed than before.”

Murphy shook his head. “I still maintain that getting laid is a good solution. It helps get those emotions out.”

“Yeah?” Monty interjected, incredulous. “Then how do you explain the fact that he hasn’t eaten in two days?”

“Wrong person, wrong emotions.” Murphy shrugged and stuffed another bite of algae into his mouth, then grimaced. “God, this is disgusting.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” asked Harper. “That sleeping with someone _besides_ Raven would help?”

“Precisely,” Murphy mumbled through his mouthful of algae.

“Who did you have in mind?” asked Raven, annoyed. “You and Emori are—somehow—still a thing, and then we’ve got Mr. and Mrs. Perfect over here.” She gestured at Monty and Harper.  “Apparently, I’m not the right person, which leaves…”

They all turned to stare at Echo.

“Ohhhhhh, no,” she said, shaking her head frantically. “No way.”

“You do have… a _thing_ with Bellamy,” Murphy pointed out.

“He _hates_ me,” Echo protested.

Murphy pointed his fork at her, triumphant. “Exactly.”

“Murphy, she literally killed his last girlfriend,” said Harper.

Echo sighed. “Thank you for bringing _that_ up.”

“All I’m saying is that hate can sometimes be really powerful. And really, really hot,” Murphy replied, earning a little smack from Emori.

“He has a point,” Raven admitted. “I mean, _everyone_ thought Bellamy was gonna fuck Clarke back at the dropship camp. They hated each other’s guts, and god, it was sexy.”

“Wait, I thought Bellamy loved Clarke,” said Echo, confused.

Monty grimaced. “You should have seen them when they first met. Whoooo boy.”

“It was pretty sexy,” Harper added, earning _her_ a little smack from Monty.

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna sleep with Bellamy just because you all think hatefucking is sexy.” Echo stood, carrying her half-finished bowl of algae goop to the makeshift kitchen and dumping it in the sink.

“It’s your turn to do dishes!” Emori called after her, but Echo had already disappeared.

***

Echo thought she was sure about her decision, but over the next few days, she couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of having sex with Bellamy. Once Murphy had planted the image in her head, it just wouldn’t go away. She got distracted training with Raven, thinking about the way Bellamy’s arms flexed when he moved, imagining what it would be like to touch them. She played out fantasies of how she might seduce him instead of helping Monty tend to the algae farm. She even had dreams about it, waking up with Bellamy’s name on her lips.

They were right—it _was_ a little sexy, thinking about Bellamy slamming her against a wall, his eyes full of anger and lust, his hands wrapping around her throat, his cock pounding into her…

Okay, maybe it was a lot sexy.

_And who knows?_ she thought. _Maybe it might help him channel some of those emotions, like Murphy said._

She hadn’t planned to act on any of those thoughts, but a few days later, she was doing laps around the ring when she came across Bellamy himself, standing against one of the big viewing ports, watching the dead Earth below.

At first, Bellamy didn’t hear her approach, so she watched him, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the way his T-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, his bed-head, his scruffy stubble. They were in a part of the ring that spacekru never really used, far enough away that if _something_ happened, no one would hear. Part of Echo considered just walking away, but the stronger part of her thought, _This is your chance!_

She coughed, and Bellamy whirled.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his voice dull and listless.

“Hey! I was just running some laps. Wanna join?”

“No, thanks. I just… wanna be alone.”

Echo had imagined all kinds of scenarios, had thought up all sorts of flirty, seductive things to say to make this happen, but at his words, her anger overwhelmed all of her carefully-staged ideas and she just exploded, stepping towards him until he was trapped against the viewport.

“Really?” she growled. “You wanna be alone? It’s not like you’ve been alone for weeks on end. It’s not like you’re slowly killing yourself by being alone. It’s not like your friends are worried sick about you or anything.”

He shoved at her, but Echo knew how to stand her ground.

“Back off, Echo! You have no right to judge me, you of all people. You wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t rescued you from your stupid self-destructive tendencies!”

She shoved back, hard. “Yeah? Well maybe it’s time I return the favor and rescue you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be rescued!”

“Tough shit! I’ve stood by while you grieve yourself to death for long enough and I’m not gonna watch anymore. So wake the fuck up and _do something!_ ”

Bellamy punched her.

Echo rocked back, clutching her fist to her cheek. “Well, I guess that’s doing something,” she laughed, giving him two seconds to look regretful before she punched him back.

He staggered backwards into the viewport, and she took the opportunity to grab him by collar and throw him sideways against the wall. Bellamy pushed himself up and clenched his fists, ready to land another blow, but this time, when Echo stomped into his personal space, instead of hitting him, she pinned his shoulders back and kissed him, full on the mouth.

He jerked away. “What the fuck?”

“Come on, Bellamy! It’s been months. Feel something else. Anything else! Let yourself be happy again.”

“What, you think you make me happy?” he scoffed.

“Hell, no. But I make you angry, and that’s close enough.”

She kissed him again, pulling roughly at his hair for a few moments until he jerked back once more.

“I hate you,” he growled.

“I know.”

This time, Bellamy kissed _her_ , his mouth ferocious and sharp against hers, his hands clutching hard at her hips. She pushed, banging him back against the wall, smashing her entire body as close as she could get to his. He lifted one knee between her legs, grinding it up into her with incredible force. She gasped into his mouth, feeling the lust flood through her core, and pulled harder at his hair. His fingernails scraped against her back as he nearly ripped her shirt off, so she returned the favor, letting her nails dig into his shoulders before yanking his shirt over his head. She nipped at his chest, leaving little red marks all the way down as she knelt in front of him, jerking at his belt buckle.

In a few quick moments, she had his pants down around his ankles and, without any forewarning, took Bellamy into her mouth, letting her teeth scrape along his skin as she began sliding up and down his cock—which was even larger than she had imagined in all her fantasies. Bellamy gasped, his fingers clutching first at the wall and then, when he found no purchase on its smooth surface, in her hair.

He didn’t let Echo blow him for long; soon, he was pulling her up by the shoulders and smashing her against the viewport with no trace of gentleness. He shoved her pants down and braced their bodies against the reinforced glass, grabbing a quick, open-mouthed kiss before sliding into her forcefully.

Echo cried out—whether from pain or pleasure, even she wasn’t sure. She slammed back into the cool glass over and over with every thrust, her legs squeezed as tight as she could get them around Bellamy’s thighs, his fingers digging into her ass, his teeth at her neck. They grunted in unison, crashing so hard into the viewport that Echo worried it might break and suck them out into space, even though she knew that was impossible.

Still, she worried—and the thought of it turned her on even more.

With all the buildup that Echo had done in her fantasies, it didn’t take long for her to come, shuddering through her orgasm until her vision went white at the edges, but Bellamy wasn’t done yet, slamming into her for another solid minute before he, too, finally came. He groaned, letting his forehead smash into hers, his sweat dripping down onto her nose. She kissed him one more time for good measure, memorizing the feel of his lips, his tongue, the inside of his mouth—for future fantasy material.

Then, she pushed him off, sliding her pants back up and retrieving her shirt from the floor.

“Nice work, Blake. Looks like you didn’t want to be alone, after all.”

She spun her shirt around on one finger and grinned her widest, most shit-eating grin before turning and continuing on her run, leaving Bellamy confused and exhausted, barely standing, his pants still pooled around his ankles.

As she ran, she thought, _Take that, Raven!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really, really don't ship Becho, but man, the idea of this was hot.


	3. Attempt No. 3: Monty and Harper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter: discussion of suicide and suicidal ideation. 
> 
> I meant to have this up yesterday but between New Year's celebrations and a trip to the ER (I'm okay now! Just a stupid stomach!) I didn't have time to finish it until today. It also ended up being a lot longer than I expected. Hope you enjoy!

“What the fuck did you do, Echo?”

Echo and Emori had been playing a makeshift version of one of their favorite Grounder games in the common area when Raven stormed in, stomping through the game and scattering all the little nuts and bolts they’d been using as chips.

Echo stood to face her. “I don’t know what you’re talking ab…”

“I’m talking about Bellamy, moron. What did you do?”

This got the attention of the others—Monty, who’d been tinkering with his algae moonshine still, Harper, who’d been practicing her Trigedasleng with the worksheets Emori made for her, and Murphy, who’d just been glowering at the world (as per usual).

It was true that Bellamy had been different the last few days. He had started showing up to meals and training sessions again, even volunteering to do extra chores. But he still wasn’t _Bellamy_ , not really. He seemed almost manic, reckless, waltzing into the areas of the ring that were still dangerous without any care at all, dashing through the halls at breakneck speed, taking every risk he found. During training, he seemed cold, almost brutal, nearly breaking Emori’s arm at one point. But at least he was out and about, they agreed, conversing in hushed tones. At least he was doing better.

…Or so they thought.

“I just found him hanging out by the airlock. Again.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Echo protested.

“Oh yeah? We have seen him there every day this week. And this time, when I confronted him about it, he asked me if I’d ever thought about what it felt like to get floated. If I ever considered the… how did he put it? The vast oblivion of space. He’s fucking suicidal, and I think you know why.”

“Let’s not go around blaming people,” Harper cautioned. “Depression is really complicated. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“Or maybe she slept with him, and it’s completely her fault,” Raven retorted.

“You don’t know that!” Emori stood up, coming to Echo’s defense.

“Yeah, there’s no way Bellamy and Echo had sex,” Monty added.

Echo folded her arms, coolly meeting Raven’s glare. “You were the one who said it would be hot.”

Monty’s eyes shot wide open. “Oh my god, you did have sex,” he whispered.

“So what if we did? All I told him was that he needed to get off his ass and do something. I never said that something needed to be jumping out an airlock.”

 “So you admit that you had something to do with this… reckless streak!” Raven jabbed a finger into Echo’s shoulder. “It is your fault!”

“My fault? Murphy’s the one who suggested all this nonsense in the first place!”

Suddenly, they were all yelling over top of one another, Raven and Echo shoving at each other until it seemed they would actually break out into an all-out fight.

“Guys, guys!” shouted Monty, stepping in between the angry girls, forcing them to take a step back. “Let’s all calm down, okay? I know we’re all worried about Bellamy, but let’s not let that worry turn us against each other.  Harper’s right. This is no one’s fault. Sometimes people just… get sad. And all we can do is be there for them. All we can do is… tell them how much we love them. Remind them that they matter.”

His words brought about a sober silence as everyone realized who he was really talking about. _Jasper_. Even Murphy seemed appropriately chastised, casting his eyes down at the floor.

Raven placed one hand on Monty’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, Monty. You’re right.” Then, glancing past him at Echo, she continued, “I’m just really scared.”

Echo nodded. “Me too.”

“So what do we do?” asked Emori. “And John, don’t you dare suggest that somebody else sleep with him.”

Murphy threw his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “I wasn’t going to say anything!”

“Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone left for him to sleep with,” Harper pointed out.

“Well…” said Raven, drawing the word out, giving Harper a knowing look.

“Well what?” demanded Monty. “Are you suggesting Harper cheat on me with Bellamy?”

“Who said I meant Harper? I’d bet you anything that Bellamy’s also into guys.”

“Wait, so you’re suggesting that _Monty_ cheat on _me_?” asked Harper, incredulous.

“It’s not cheating if you do it together,” Echo pointed out, causing another flurry of overlapping voices.

“Hey!” shouted Emori, causing everyone to fall quiet. “No one else is sleeping with Bellamy, okay? We need to focus on real solutions. How do we help him?”

The conversation quickly turned towards setting up a schedule for people to check in on Bellamy, watch the airlock, and make sure he had someone to talk to if he needed, but as they drew up the shifts, Harper caught Monty’s eye, passing him a strange look that he couldn’t decipher.

He wondered if she was thinking what he was thinking.

***

Monty didn’t get a chance to talk to Harper alone until that evening, back in their room as they got ready for bed. He leaned against the doorway, watching her as she sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully braiding her hair.

“Hey,” he began, unsure if he should even bring this up. “What was that… look… you gave me earlier?”

Her back stiffened, her fingers pausing in the braid. “What look?”

“When Echo brought up the idea of… us. With Bellamy. You looked at me funny.”

“Did I?” Her fingers resumed their quick movement, deftly finishing the braid and tying it off with a scrap of fabric. Monty could hear the catch in her voice, the attempt to be nonchalant.

“Come on, Harper. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” He moved to sit on the bed, patting the space beside him until she came to join him.

“I was just worried about you,” she said, still nonchalant, looking at her fingers in her lap rather than at him. “You know, thinking about Jasper and all.”

“Oh,” Monty said, trying to hide the edge of disappointment in his voice, but Harper must have heard it.

“Why, what did you think the look meant?” She glanced up at him, watching him carefully, and Monty suddenly wondered if maybe she wanted to hear him say it first.

“I was wondering if maybe you were considering it. Us… with Bellamy.”

Harper swallowed. “I mean… maybe. Do you… do you think it would help him?”

“Probably not… But it would be really, really hot.”

That got a laugh out of her, and she reached for one of his hands, running her fingers along the scars from the radiation burns all those months ago.

“Are you saying you think Bellamy is hot?” she teased.

“Everybody thinks Bellamy is hot. Even you.”

“Uh-huh. And what makes you so sure of that?”

“You told me,” he laughed. “Back when we celebrated Unity Day at the dropship. You may have been drunk.”

“I must have been, because I have no memory of that.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true!”

She giggled and leaned in for a kiss, which soon turned into more than just kissing, and Monty wondered if that might be the end of the conversation.

But later that night, when they were cuddled in the middle of the bed, naked and sated and sleepy, Harper asked in a soft voice, “Do you think Bellamy would go for us?”

Monty nuzzled deeper into the crook of her shoulder. “Probably. I mean, we are pretty good in bed, if I do say so myself.”

She laughed a little, trailing her fingers up and down his arm. “Seriously, though. Would he?”

Something in her voice made Monty sit up, disentangling his legs from hers. “I think so. I mean, Bellamy’s never been one to turn down sex. We could ask him… if you’re serious about this.” Something in his chest constricted in excitement at the idea.

“I don’t know. I keep going back and forth. I kind of want to try it, but… I’m not sure it would be a good idea.”

“What do you mean?”

Harper frowned. “It’s just… It’s like you said. Sleeping with him probably wouldn’t help him at all, so our motivation would just be selfish. And he’s been so messed up lately that it feels… I don’t know, wrong. Like using him. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “Look, we don’t have to figure this out tonight. We’ve got like four more years stuck on this ring to try and… seduce Bellamy, if we want.”

“You’re right.” She planted a quick peck on his forehead and then pulled him back down to snuggle, yanking the blanket up over them. “We don’t have to think about it right now.”

Resolved to put the idea out of his head, Monty curled into her and quickly fell asleep.

***

Harper was not quite so lucky. Whenever she closed her eyes, she kept imagining what it would be like to make out with Bellamy, carding her fingers through that gorgeous, tousled hair, letting his fingers dance across her skin. She thought about what Monty would look like kissing Bellamy, going down on Bellamy… Every time she thought the fantasy was through, her brain came up with some other position to imagine the three of them in, sending more heat pooling down through her stomach to her vagina. Finally, she fell into a restless sleep, thinking that if they didn’t manage to seduce Bellamy at some point, four years was going to be an awfully long time.

The next morning, Harper lingered in the common area after breakfast, wanting to bring up the idea again with Monty. Bellamy hadn’t shown up to eat, and she was starting to rethink everything.

“Maybe we should reconsider,” she said to her boyfriend once everyone else had left the room.

“About Bellamy, you mean?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it last night,” she admitted. “And what if it would help him? You were the one who said we needed to show him we love him. Maybe this would help.”

Monty shook his head. “I don’t know. I had a dream about it, too, and it just made me realize how selfish my motivations are, like you said. I don’t want us to sleep with Bellamy because it might make him feel better—I want us to sleep with Bellamy because I think we’d enjoy the hell out of it.”

Harper made a mental note about Monty’s dream; that was something she wanted details about later.

“Plus,” he continued, “if all of us keep trying this, eventually Bellamy is going to catch on.”

“Catch onto what?”

They whirled to find Bellamy himself standing in the doorway, looking as if he’d just woken up.

“Uh… just how much we… we’re worried about you,” Harper lied, watching as Bellamy made his way over to the moonshine still.

“Why would you worry about me? I’m fine.”

Harper and Monty exchanged a concerned glance as he began pouring himself a rather large cup of moonshine, way more than was necessary for any one person to drink at a time. That shit was potent.

“Dude, it’s like nine in the morning. This is why we’re worried about you,” Monty pointed out.

In response, Bellamy gulped back a huge swig from his cup, then another. “So?” he said finally. “Don’t worry, it’s all good.” He drained the moonshine, slammed his cup down on the table, and headed back towards the door.

“It’s not all good, Bellamy!” Monty shouted after him. “You’re acting like…”

“Like what?” Bellamy interrupted, spinning on his heel to face them again. “Like my best friend died in a literal tidal wave of radiation just so I could sit up here in fucking space and do nothing? Like I have no idea if my sister is alive? Like I’m responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people but somehow still survived everything even though I don’t deserve to? Like that? Yeah, Monty, I wonder why?”

Monty stared at the floor, murmuring, “I was going to say that you’re acting like Jasper.”

Bellamy seemed to deflate. He sat heavily on the couch, crumpling, his head falling into his hands. In unison, Harper and Monty moved to sit on either side of him, Harper wrapping one arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not the only person who’s lost people, Bellamy,” said Monty softly.

Bellamy lifted his head, tears leaking down his cheeks, which had turned very ruddy as the moonshine began to hit him.

“What, so I should just… just get over it, like everyone else?”

“No, that’s not… None of us is over it, any of it. I don’t think we ever will be. All I meant was, you’re not alone.”

“We know what you’re going through, Bell,” Harper added. “We’ve all lost people; we’ve all killed people. You’re in good company.”

“And if you need to talk about it, we’re here for you.” Monty clapped one hand against Bellamy’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.

To Harper’s surprise, Bellamy leaned in and planted a sloppy kiss on Monty’s lips. For a moment, Monty let it happen, and Harper’s heart skipped a beat, thinking back to her fantasies from the night before.

But then, Monty pulled back, placing his hands on Bellamy’s shoulders to maintain some distance between them. “Whoa, dude. That’s not a good idea.”

Bellamy seemed to realize what he had done and jerked up, wobbling a little on his feet. “Sorry,” he muttered, before staggering out into the hallway, leaving Monty and Harper confused and concerned on the couch.

***

Monty couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

It had been hours, and neither he nor Harper had seen Bellamy at all since that morning. Raven assured them that he hadn’t been by the airlock, but Monty couldn’t help worrying that Bellamy was going to do something stupid or reckless or self-destructive. His thoughts kept flashing back to how Jasper had been in those last few months before the death wave, taking any excuse to put himself in danger.

And then he’d flash back to the kiss.

Kissing Bellamy—even a tipsy, sloppy Bellamy—had been even better than Monty had imagined, and he had definitely imagined it, not just in the past twenty-four hours since Echo had suggested a threesome, but for years, ever since he’d caught a glimpse of Bellamy at one of those dances they used to hold for kids on the Ark. Bellamy had looked so young, then, but already haunted by something, giving him a mysterious, adult air. Thinking back now, Monty figured it must have been when he was still burdened by the secret of Octavia, living under the floor. He remembered how he’d caught sight of this beautiful, mysterious guy leaning up against a viewport, his hair illuminated by the starlight behind him, watching everyone else dance. _Who’s that?_ he’d asked Jasper, who had friends in the grades above them and tended to know people Monty didn’t. _Bellamy Blake_ , came the reply.

That night was the first time Monty had dreamed about kissing Bellamy, but it was certainly not the last. For years, on the nights when he couldn’t fall asleep, or when he felt especially lonely in the skybox after he and Jasper had been caught, or when events on the ground got to be too much for him, he’d close his eyes and return to the fantasy of making out with Bellamy Blake, letting his thoughts linger on Bellamy’s arms, his chest, his ass. Some nights, the dream kept going, leaving Monty rubbing desperately at his cock until he came, often biting his hand to keep quiet.

It was something he’d never told anyone—not even Jasper, not even Harper.

And now, he actually _had_ kissed Bellamy, been kissed _by_ Bellamy, and it just so happened to be the one set of circumstances in which kissing back was not allowed.

That afternoon, he and Harper were back in their room—Harper napping on the bed while he fiddled with an old entertainment tablet from the Ark days, trying to make it work so they’d have _something_ to do besides farm algae and train all day. Monty’s hands stilled as his thoughts once again returned to the kiss, lingering on the feel of Bellamy’s lips, the way he tasted like moonshine and grief and…

_Knock, knock, knock._

Harper sat up sleepily, while Monty set the tablet down on the bed and went to answer the door.

To his surprise, it was Bellamy standing there, looking sheepish with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

“Hey, can I… can I talk to you? Both of you?” He glanced over Monty’s shoulder at Harper, who had stood up and moved closer to see who it was.

“Sure, come in.”

But Bellamy stayed in the doorway, embarrassed.

“I, uh… just wanted to apologize. For earlier.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Harper replied. “It’s okay for you to be hurting still.”

“But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, not when you were just trying to help. You were right to be worried about me. I’m not… handling this well. I shouldn’t have lashed out. And I… I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He focused his gaze on his shoes, deliberately not looking at Monty. “I shouldn’t have kissed your boyfriend,” he added for Harper.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I thought it was kinda hot.”

Bellamy smiled wanly, but continued, “Still. I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid.”

Monty reached for his hand, causing Bellamy to flinch in surprise. “It wasn’t stupid, Bellamy. Bad timing, maybe, but not stupid.”

Bellamy finally looked up at him, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion, pulling his hand away. “Bad timing?”

“Yeah. I mean, you were already tipsy and getting worse by the minute, plus you were really upset and vulnerable. I wasn’t gonna take advantage. But any other time…”

Bellamy’s eyebrows scrunched even more, his gaze flicking between Monty and Harper. “Wait, are you saying…? What about…?”

Harper glanced over at Monty, her eyes asking a silent question, and he nodded, signaling that he was on board if she wanted to bring up the threesome thing. _Might as well give it a try_ , he thought.

“Actually,” she began, “Monty and I had just been talking about… trying something new. Spicing things up. With someone else, you know. Well, with you in particular.”

Bellamy’s eyes un-scrunched and went wide.

“Only if that’s something you’d be into, of course,” Monty added quickly. “Totally up to you.”

Bellamy swallowed, hard. “Are you saying… you two want to sleep with me?”

“Only if you want to,” Harper reassured him.

For a moment, Monty thought maybe this was a terrible idea, that they’d scared him off, that this might even ruin their friendship. It was stupid of them to ask, and of course Bellamy didn’t want to sleep with them, and…

And then he caught sight of the impressive bulge at Bellamy’s crotch.

“And if… if I do want to?” Bellamy asked.

Monty felt something tighten inside him and his breath caught in his lungs. Across the room, Harper’s face lit up.

“Then you should probably close the door,” she replied.

Bellamy did, and then stood awkwardly for a moment between the two of them. Monty could feel a blush creeping up his neck.

“Have either of you ever… done this before?” Bellamy asked.

As he and Harper shook their heads, a vague memory danced across Monty’s mind of Bellamy emerging from a tent with two girls back at the dropship. He had threesome experience.

“Well, we should probably make sure we’re all on the same page. Establish boundaries. Especially because… well, I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. You’re the actual couple here.”

“What kind of boundaries?” asked Harper.

“You know—anything you don’t want to do or see. And we should all be comfortable saying how we feel in the moment. Being honest.”

“We can do that,” Monty affirmed.

“If we’re being honest,” Harper began cautiously, “then I do have one thing I’m not interested in trying. I’d rather not… I mean, I’m pretty strictly a vagina kinda girl. The idea of something in my ass… grosses me out. You two can try that with each other if you want, but… it’s not for me.”

“Sure,” said Bellamy immediately. “That’s fine.”

Monty, on the other hand, was having trouble finding his words, completely distracted by the sudden thought of Bellamy in his ass.     

“Monty?” Bellamy’s voice interrupted him. “What about you?”

“I’d go for that,” Monty said without thinking.

Bellamy looked confused for a moment, and Monty realized that’s not what he had been asking. “I meant, uh, is there anything you don’t want to try?”

“Oh.” Monty could feel his ears burning, and out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Harper trying not to laugh at him (and failing). “Not that I can think of right now,” he finally managed.

“Okay. Well, if something bothers you, just… say so.”

They were left in an awkward silence again, and Monty’s panic began to rise again. Maybe this was a bad idea. They didn’t even know how to get started. What if the whole thing was unbearable awkward? What if Bellamy never spoke to them again? What if it made his depression worse? What if…?

Harper suddenly shook her head, muttering, “Boys!” She moved swiftly towards Bellamy and pulled him in for a kiss, and Monty was reminded of the first time she’d kissed him, back at Arkadia while Raven was trying to hack into the City of Light. She’d been so confident, so sure of what she wanted, just like now.

God, he loved her.

He also loved seeing her make out with Bellamy, much more than he’d expected. They looked good together, lips sliding over each other, her light hair standing out against his dark curls. Monty could feel himself getting hard, just watching the way Bellamy’s hands slipped down to her waist, fingers splayed out over the small of her back. For a moment, he was so entranced by their kissing that he forgot he was supposed to be a part of this, too.

And then Harper pulled out of this kiss for a moment to gesture at him, mouthing, “Come on!”

Tentatively, Monty moved to stand behind his girlfriend, pressing his lips against her neck as she resumed kissing Bellamy. At first, he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, but a moment later, Bellamy’s arms snaked around both him and Harper, coming to rest on Monty’s ass, so Monty mirrored the motion, his hands landing near the back pockets of Bellamy’s pants.

After a few moments, Harper ducked out from in between the two boys. “Your turn,” she panted to Monty, then busied herself with the buttons on her shirt.

Monty didn’t need to be told twice. After so many years dreaming of Bellamy’s lips, after the little taste he’d gotten that morning, he was primed and ready to go—and so, it seemed, was Bellamy. Their lips crashed together, almost too forcefully, Monty bringing his fingers up to run through Bellamy’s hair. Bellamy opened his mouth beneath Monty’s lips, allowing him to dip in and explore with his tongue, just like he’d always imagined. They pushed closer with every breath until Monty could feel Bellamy grinding against his thigh through their pants, just as hard as he was.

Harper moved back into the little triangle, now in only her bra and underwear. Monty pulled away from Bellamy to kiss her while Bellamy planted kisses down along her collarbone and the upper curve of her breast.

“You two,” Harper said in between kisses, “are wearing… far too much… clothing.”

Bellamy laughed and leaned back, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. Monty couldn’t help staring a little; he always forgot just how damn hot Bellamy looked shirtless. He was so distracted by those abs that he almost didn’t notice that Harper was trying to take _his_ shirt off, tugging the hem up to his chest. When he realized what she was doing, he helpfully slid his arms out of the sleeves and let her pull it off his neck.

Bellamy returned to kissing and nipping along Harper’s chest, but this time, he moved lower, sinking onto his knees until his face was level with her panties.

He glanced up at them. “Is this okay?”

“God, yes,” breathed Harper at the same time that Monty said, “Hell, yeah!” Bellamy grinned and helped Harper to shimmy out of the underwear.

“I don’t mean to brag,” said Bellamy, only half joking, “but you might want to hold her up.”

Monty and Harper barely had time to exchange amused glances before Bellamy dove in, his face disappearing between her thighs. Harper gasped, her eyes flickering closed, allowing little moans to escape every few seconds. Monty moved around behind her to support her, running his thumbs up and down her sides, dipping his fingers under the fabric of her bra, all the while kissing along her neck. He kind of wished he had a better view of what Bellamy was doing, but then Harper slid one hand behind her to grab ahold of his cock through his pants, and then he was fine exactly where he was.

Bellamy wasn’t wrong—he _was_ good at this. He quickly had Harper on the edge, barely breathing, her moans turning into squeals of delight. Soon, her legs were visibly shaking and she was relying on the boys to stay upright. Monty tightened his arms to help hold her up, whispering little bits of encouragement in her ear, while Bellamy propped up her ass with his hands. A few moments later, Harper came with a piercing cry, nearly collapsing into their arms as her muscles trembled.

Bellamy stood, scrubbing at the fluids on his chin with the back of one hand, his eyes triumphant. “Still got it,” he muttered, winking at Monty.

The two of them helped Harper over to the bed, laying her back against the pillows and taking a seat on either side of her. As she caught her breath, Bellamy leaned in towards Monty for another kiss, wrapping his hands around Monty’s cheeks. Monty recognized the taste of Harper on his tongue and smiled into the kiss.

They were interrupted after a few long moments by Harper’s hands, unzipping first Monty’s pants and then Bellamy’s. Monty took her meaning and slid down his pants, kicking them to the floor, and Bellamy followed suit. Harper undid her bra, letting it fall into her lap, revealing those pert little breasts that Monty loved so much.

There followed a brief flurry of movement, exploration, in which Monty could barely keep track of whose hands were where, whose mouth was on what. He discovered that Bellamy had a spot on his hip that made him moan when you stroked it; he found that he really, really, liked having Bellamy and Harper tag team a hand job; he remembered how much Harper enjoyed having someone suck at her nipples.

Suddenly, Harper leaned over to Bellamy and whispered something in his ear, something that made him smile roguishly. “Come here,” she said to Monty, laying down on her back and pulling his body over her. From behind, Bellamy reached around to Monty’s cock and helped align it, sliding the tip around her still-slick opening. Harper reached up to brush back the hair from his face, letting her hand linger on his cheek. “You ready?” she asked, and Monty nodded.

He slid into her familiar warmth, the feeling of her around him taking his breath away, as it always did. He moved slowly, letting them both enjoy every little scrape and push and jolt, pressing deliberately against that one spot he knew would drive her crazy.

From behind, he suddenly felt something pushing at his own entrance— _Bellamy’s finger_. “Is this okay?” Bellamy whispered, breath hot on his ear.

“Yes,” Monty managed, barely able to get the word out, his mind totally consumed by the sensations that now came at him from both sides.

Bellamy took his time prepping Monty, slowly working up to one knuckle, then two, one finger, then two. Monty kept still, letting Harper take control beneath him. She rotated her hips in shallow circles, making eye contact, watching with obvious pleasure the little facial expressions that Monty made with Bellamy’s every move. And then, Bellamy’s fingers were gone and his cock was there instead, pushing in slowly, further than Monty thought possible, hitting something…

Monty jolted. _Prostate_ , he guessed.

Their rhythm started off gentle and slow, with Monty sliding into Harper just as Bellamy slid out of him, then vice versa, punctuated by little grunts and sighs of pleasure.

Monty had never felt anything like this—had never felt so full, so overwhelmed with physical bliss. His nerve endings were on fire. Even the stretch and cramp in his arms from propping himself up on his elbows felt satisfying. Harper’s hands were in his hair, on his chest, everywhere. Bellamy’s hands were on his hips, each finger hot and distinct against Monty’s skin. He didn’t know which legs were whose, which noises came from whom. Harper was so tight and warm and wet around him, and with every stroke Bellamy hit that perfect spot, sending a burst of white-hot lightning through his brain. Monty thought he might actually explode or pass out or something because the feeling was so much. He could hear skin slapping on skin as they moved faster, and everything was heat and electricity and bodies in motion.

Monty came first, overwhelmed and sandwiched as he was, making a sound he’d never heard himself make before. He leaned his head into Harper’s shoulder, biting gently at the skin there as Bellamy continued to pound into him, his strokes becoming more and more desperate until he, too, came with an impressive noise, a cross between a groan of pain and a yell of triumph.

Carefully, Bellamy slid out and then helped Monty to roll off of Harper; they ended up in a tangled pile, both boys reaching instinctively towards Harper to help finish her off. Bellamy dragged one finger across her clit while Monty slipped his index and middle fingers inside of her, curling up to find that spot again. It didn’t take them long—Harper had been close—and when she came, she bucked hard against their hands, pulling at the sheets so hard she actually ripped a hole.

Panting, they all three stared at the jagged tear in the fabric, then began laughing hysterically. Monty laughed so hard he cried, tears leaking down his cheeks.

When the laugher subsided, they lay in their pile for a long time, Harper almost falling asleep while Bellamy ran his thumb along Monty’s shoulder, over and over.   

Finally, Bellamy disentangled himself from the pile, finding his clothes and getting dressed. Monty tried to sit up and follow him, but he gestured for Monty to stay put.

At the door, Bellamy turned and said, “Thank you. Both of you. For this and… for everything. For worrying about me.”

“Of course,” Monty replied. “Always.”

“That’s what friends are for,” added Harper sleepily. “Threesomes and worrying.”

Bellamy laughed a little, and then he was gone. Monty considered going after him, seeing if he wanted to talk, but he was so warm, so comfortable, and Harper really was asleep now, her head pillowed on his stomach, her breathing even and relaxed. _We can talk tomorrow_ , he thought, laying his head back on the bed.

It wasn’t long before he, too, was asleep, drifting into the most pleasant dreams he’d had since the day he fell to Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a die-hard Bellarke fan but once this idea crossed my mind, I couldn't get it out of my head. I actually started writing this last year during the hiatus, before season 5 happened, but I just found it again and decided to try and finish it. Sorry if my sex scenes suck--this is my first (public) attempt at writing anything explicit.


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